“words as residue”

—Gustaf Sobin

Sheared close 

to the skin,

we sit waiting 

for something

to be said.

What remains

after we speak

are bludgeons

of memory,

a residual gist:

if only words

could be solid

and crystalline.

Instead, dust motes

slip silently

through morning 

sunlight.

(January 9, 2024)